


I Never Know What to Say

by ace_etta



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Camping, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_etta/pseuds/ace_etta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of everyone leaving after graduation, they go on a team camping trip, get drunk, and talk about their emotions.</p><p>***</p><p>“Okay! Now that we’re all settled,” Shitty paused to eye Bitty, “Jack and I have an announcement!”</p><p>Bitty looked back at Jack, but he only gave a small smile and shrug of his shoulders.</p><p>“As you know, Jack and I are fucking finally leaving our fucking 'swawesome Samwell for brighter pastures and all the bullshit that entails. But before we leave for good, we’d like to go out in style! As many of you know, my family is rich as balls, as is Jack, and though he’s already spent his graduation present--”</p><p>Bitty shot Jack a bemused look, but he received only a sharp shake of the head in return. Confusedly, Bitty returned his attention to Shitty.</p><p>“And so since my uncle owes me a favor, I asked him to bankroll a team camping trip!”</p><p>Bitty whisper-shouted,“What?!” but was drowned out by Ransom and Holster’s much more enthusiastic, “DRUNK FOREST SHENANIGANS!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camping is a Go

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this ages ago, and I found it again after The Update. So here we are.
> 
> I don't own anything, but sympathy for Bitty and a concern or the well-being of people who have had to listen to Rasputin multiple times.

“Bits, get your ass in here!”

“Coming, coming!” Bitty yelled back as he hip checked the oven shut. Quickly, he pulled off his oven mitts and set the timer. Without taking his apron off, he made his way to the living room. Most of the team was crowded onto the disgusting green couch watching Shitty pacing in front of the tv. Bitty found Jack sitting contentedly on a free armchair.

“Finally!” exclaimed Shitty.

Bitty would be offended if it wasn’t for the slightly crazed gleam of excitement that lit up Shitty’s face. Still he couldn’t hold back a stern, “Shitty B. Knight, you know baking stops for no man.”

“Oh, my god, Bits. _Sit the fuck down._ ”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Looking around the crowded room quickly revealed that there wasn’t much room left. There might have been enough space on the couch between Ransom and Holster, but before Bitty could begin debating the relative health concerns of the couch versus an over enthused Shitty, Jack caught his attention with a soft sigh and exaggerated eye roll, but when he looked over, there was a smile tugging at his lips and he was gesturing dramatically to the arm of his chair. Bitty could practically hear the _delicate constitution_ chirp Jack was thinking, but beggars can’t be choosers. So Bitty perched with only minimal huffing and blushing.

“Okay! Now that we’re all settled,” Shitty paused to eye Bitty, “Jack and I have an announcement!”

Bitty looked back at Jack, but he only gave a small smile and shrug of his shoulders.

“As you know, Jack and I are fucking finally leaving our fucking swawesome Samwell for brighter pastures and all the bullshit that entails. But before we leave for good, we’d like to go out in style! As many of you know, my family is rich as balls, as is Jack, and though he’s already spent his graduation present--”

Bitty shot Jack a bemused look, but he received only a sharp shake of the head in return. Confusedly, Bitty returned his attention to Shitty.

“And so since my uncle owes me a favor, I asked him to bankroll a team camping trip!”

Bitty whisper-shouted,“What?!” but was drowned out by Ransom and Holster’s much more enthusiastic, “DRUNK FOREST SHENANIGANS!”

A gentle touch on his shoulder had Bitty swiveling around to come face to face with Jack’s concerned eyes.

“Everything okay, Bittle?”

With a hard swallow, he found himself saying, “It’s just _camping_ \--”

And then Chowder was there excitedly babbling about _oh my god, this is going to be_ so _much fun_ and _there’s gonna be tents and nature and_ oh my god **s’mores** and Bittle finds himself smiling and nodding along, but he can’t help feeling Jack’s worried frown boring into his back.

***

Bitty didn’t say anything more about it even as the team began planning seriously, and Jack didn’t push. Still, Bitty found Jack’s eyes on his whenever he felt his face pinching at the mention of camping. Bitty spent the next week trying to relax his face muscles and not blush.

The night before Jack and Shitty’s last night, Bittle found himself back in the kitchen, stress-baking [Strawberry Rhubarb pie](http://www.cuesa.org/recipe/strawberry-rhubarb-pie) when Jack knocked on the doorframe making Bitty nearly drop the pie crust

“Oh, lord! Jack!” He grabbed at his chest with his free hand and let out a chuckle, “You startled me!”

“Sorry,” Jack mumbled.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyhow. I wasn’t paying a lick of attention.” Bitty went back to grabbing the pie crusts. “So what’re you doing down here at--” he stopped to check the time on the oven and nearly gasped, “Two thirty! Jack. What are you doing up? You should be in bed.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jack said, inching towards the counter next to Bitty.

“I’ve got pies to bake,” Bitty huffed, waving Jack in.

“Rhubarb?” Jack asked eyeing the ingredients spread across every available surface.

“And if I am?” He flinched when shut the fridge a tad more firmly than he’d intended.

“Nothing. It’s just you only use rhubarb when--”

“When I’m nervous?” Bitty smacked the crusts onto the counter. “So what if I am, Jack Zimmermann? Finals are a stressful time. Even when they’re over! And graduation! I have to figure out a gift for Shitty--

“Minipies” Jack interjected.

“--and I have to pack! And Chowder, poor dear, doesn’t know how to fold clothes to save his life. I have to help him pack and keep the frogs from fighting and--”

“Bittle,” Jack stopped him with a gentle touch on the shoulder that he swiftly retracted. “Rhubarb is-is for when you’re-you’re . . . _sad_.”

“Oh.” Bitty looked down at his hands and away from Jack’s intense gaze. “I’d hoped no one would notice.”

“Why?”

Bitty knew Jack meant _why are you sad?_ and _why didn’t you want us to know?_ and a million other things that Bitty would have missed a year ago. But a year of friendship and he was slowly learning how to understand Jack.

“Oh. I don’t know,” he sighed, beginning to roll out the crust, “I guess it’s mostly graduation. You--and Shitty--are leaving, and y’all are gonna go camping and-and I’m gonna miss y-y’all.”

Jack frowned. “Aren’t you coming camping?”

“I don’t--I can’t camp to save my life. Coach and I tried a few times when I was little, but,” Bitty shook his head, “I never quite got the hang of it.”

Bitty thought he saw Jack’s frown deepen out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t sure how that was physically possible.

“I don’t think Shitty’s touched a tent in his life.”

Looking over confusedly, Bitty watched Jack’s cheeks turn pink. The baker tried to bite down on a smile. Jack clearly hadn’t meant for that to slip out, and he shouldn’t laugh at his attempts at normal conversation. But his smile has a mind of his own.

“Well, then. Maaaaaaaybe I could be convinced to go. I think I’d like to see Shitty set up a tent.”

“I mean--there’s a c-cabin.”

“You know as well as I do, Jack Zimmermann, that when Shitty says he’s going camping he’s gonna at least attempt to actually camp. Whether he’s successful or not, well . . . that’s another story.”

Jack smiled fondly, and Bittle beamed back.

“Okay. Enough talk. Get over here and help me already, would ya?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if there are any glaring errors in plot or grammar!


	2. Post-Kiss and Road Trip

Lardo shares an apartment with two other art majors and a philosophy major. So Bitty shouldn’t really be surprised that their apartment has about three square feet of floor that isn’t covered in the assorted odds and ends that comes from living with excessively messy people.

“I think there’s a marble under my leg.”

Lardo made a humming noise from the bed. Silence reigned.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Bitty made a strangled noise from the floor.

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Lardo’s ceiling was remarkably plain, Bitty noticed. It was some white popcorn monstrosity, but the apartment itself was pretty nice. At least, that’s what Bitty assumed from what little he could see of it under all the art supplies. The hardwood floors were nice, even if they were a little sticky and not the best for minor emotional breakdowns.

“He sent me a nose smiley, Lardo. I don’t think my heart can handle this.”

“What did the text say?”

Bitty groaned. “Eat more protein.”

“Oh, my god. That nerd.”

“Right!?” Bitty flailed and knocked over a small bag of sequins. “Sorry.”

He could see Lardo’s dismissive hand wave out of the corner of his eye. “So what are you going to do?”

“Hide forever?”

“No dice. Camping tomorrow.”

Bitty hid his face in his hands and groaned, “Do I have to go?”

“Yes. I’ve already found a van.”

***

The next day found Bitty squished between Ransom and Holster who were very enthusiastically singing along to Boney M’s “Rasputin,” which was fun the first time, but after the 8th time, lost some of its charm. When they finally pulled over at a gas station for a bathroom/snack break, Bitty launched himself out of the car with Chowder’s concerned eyes following him. Lardo’s station wagon pulled up right behind Shitty’s borrowed van, and Bitty threw himself at Lardo as soon as she opened the door.

“Save me, _please_.”

Lardo laughed.

“I will do anything. _Anything_. So long as I don’t have to hear--”

And then Ransom and Holster were there singing, “ _Ra-ra-rasputin! Lover of the--_ ”

“Oh my LORD. Y’all are gonna make me lose my mind! Lardo! Please!”

“You can ride with us,” Jack called, laughing from where he was leaning with his arms folded on the roof of the car.

“Jack, you are a god among men! I’ll bake you whatever kind of pie you want, just name it.”

He perked up, “Apple sugar?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bittle said, turning to face the groans of Ransom and Holster and hide his furious blush from Jack, “You might’ve gotten pie if y’all weren’t _insufferable_.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lardo smirk at Jack, but by the time he’d turned around, Jack was already ducking back into the car. He didn’t have much time to wonder what that was all about before Ransom and Holster were whining to get his attention and his pie making skills back on their side.

“Nope. Y’all’ve brought this on yourselves. Now come on, let’s go get some jerky for Chowder so he can fall asleep before y’all ruin his poor ears.”

***

Even though Bitty was forced to sit next to two coolers and a mountain of sleeping bags, anything was better than the so called “party-mobile.” But with Lardo’s weird experimental indie and techno playing and the occasional quiet exchanges, Bitty soon found himself nodding off.

***

Bittle was curled up in the backseat when Jack looked back to check on him. He knew he and Lardo weren’t the most entertaining on car rides. That was actually the only reason Shitty let them have a car to themselves. That and the van couldn’t fit both the coolers and Holster’s second giant duffle bag along with all their luggage.

Yet it was still a small shock to see how quickly Bittle had fallen asleep. Jack couldn’t blame him though. Though Jack hadn’t caught Bitty in the kitchen after midnight since they had their kiss, the sheer number of pies that had appeared in the past few days made it clear that Bittle wasn’t getting the amount of sleep he should be.

And . . . it was sort of cute, the way Bittle curled himself around the seat belt and the pillow in his lap. The way the sunlight flitted across his face alternately highlighted or hid the small smattering of freckles that always appeared in spring made Jack’s finger itch on the shutter button of his camera. He’d already taken an appropriate number of sufficiently hipster blurry travel shots, and now his camera wanted to turn itself on Bittle.

“Go ahead,” Lardo whispered. “It’s not a creeper shot if you tell him about it afterwards.”

Jack jumped. Honestly, he’d forgotten for a minute she was even there

“How did you . . .?”

“Don’t doubt me, Zimmermann,” Lardo smirked and readjusted her sunglasses before tapping her temple, “Mindreading Best Bro Powers.”

“Still, I . . . can’t. It feels weird.” Jack shrugged.

“Look, if you can passive-aggressively not date a dude, you can take one picture of him sleeping, especially if he’s as cute as Bits is.”

Jack blinked hard. “I haven’t been dating Bittle.”

“I know. That’s what I said.” At Jack’s bemused silence, Lardo sighed. “I know we said we wouldn’t talk about this after the first time you told me about your thing for Bits, but things have changed. You’ve been not dating him so hard, you’re dating him. Froyo? Coffee? And paying for it? 100% date-type activities. And I know you said you can’t date Bits, but you kissed him and texted him. You can’t do that to him, but I’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately, and I think he deserves to know you want more than that. Okay?”

For a minute, Jack was silent, fiddling with his camera.

“Jack. Tell me what’s up?” Lardo’s voice went soft and gentle without going beyond a whisper.

“Why hasn’t Bittle said _something_?”

“Oh, Jack. No. First off, Bits isn’t that much of a dick. He wouldn’t do whatever you’re thinking of. Secondly, think about it. He grew up in Bumfuck Nowhere, Georgia, and his first time coming out was to Shitty. He’s never had the chance to learn how to flirt, let alone date.”

“He came out to Shitty?” Jack frowned.

“He didn’t tell you?” Lardo jerked her head to look over at him.

“No. I just kinda figured it out when Ransom and Holster were setting him up for Winter Screw . . .”

The car was quiet for a few minutes. Lardo’s arty music and Bittle’s gentle mumbling could barely be heard over the blast of the ancient air conditioning.

“You’ve got to talk to him, Jack.”

He looked down at his camera screen and the last picture he’d taken. “What about you and Shitty?”

Jack could see Lardo’s hands tighten ever-so-slightly on the steering wheel. “We . . . talked about it.”

“And?”

“And, I don’t know. We both like each other. That’s definitely a thing now? I guess? Uh. But then we were talking about, you know, actually dating, and then Dex and Nursey were screaming about something. And, well, here we are.”

Jack waiting for something else to be added, but when nothing came, he turned his head abruptly from his photos. The corner of Lardo’s mouth was tight, and her shoulders suspiciously relaxed.

“You aren’t going to do something about that?”

“Eh.” Lardo shrugged. “It might be too late for us, you know?”

“No?”

“It’s just, he’s graduating and going off to Harvard, and I’m staying here. And then there’s summer break. Not really a great time to start a relationship.”

“And you haven’t talked to Shitty about this?”

“No.” She hesitated, “We haven’t had the time.”

Jack coughed, and the quiet dragged. Lardo broke it with a soft chuckle.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“What do you think I’m suggesting?”

“An ‘I’ll do it if you do it’ deal? Really, Zimmermann?”

Jack shrugged. “It was just a suggestion. If you don’t want to . . .”

“Oh, now it’s on. I’m in. If it’ll get you to talk to Bits, I’m in.”

On the last sentence, Lardo’s voice rose above the hushed tone they had been using, and Bitty’s head rose from the pillow. He blinked his eyes a few times, and then squinted at Jack and Lardo. Jack was fascinated by the way Bitty’s hair was sticking up on the side that had been smashed into the pillow.

“Wha'?” he grunted.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Bits. Zimmermann and I were just betting about the likelihood of Dex killing Nursey,” Lardo explained with a wink.

“He better not,” Bitty mumbled as his eyelids drooped and his head started swaying back towards the pillow. Jack’s heart tightened.

Jack turned his eyes back to the road and pointedly ignored Lardo’s snort. If by the time they arrived at the cabin, there were pictures of Bitty drooling into his pillow, well, that was no one’s business but his and Bitty’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to have the third chapter up by Friday! You have permission to yell at me [here](http://smallsouthernson.tumblr.com) if it isn't up by then.
> 
> As always, let me know if there are any glaring errors in plot or grammar!


	3. Chapter 3

“Holy fucking shit!”

Jack jerked at the sound of a slamming car door. He blinked, trying to clear the sleepy blur from his eyes. At first the window seemed to be mostly green and brown and blue, and Jack couldn’t really see what the big deal was. Then, his eyesight cleared, and the cabin came into focus.

“That is not a cabin,” Lardo grumbled next to him.

Jack couldn’t help but agree. Calling the building in front of them a cabin necessitated a very loose definition of ‘cabin’. Especially considering cabins were notably small, and it was the size of a small mansion. It looked like one of those ridiculous homes that get put on the cover of ridiculous magazines with names like ‘Homes and Mountains’ or something like that. Surrounded by forest on both sides, the lake that butted up against the back of the property was only a glimmer through the trees. All sharp angles and glass, the building only made a halfhearted attempt to match the surrounding foliage by proudly displaying the log walls, but the high shine of the wood sharply contrasted with the natural growth surrounding it.

Tearing his eyes away from the building, Jack looked over at Lardo. Her nose was scrunched up and her hands were tight on the steering wheel. Jack brought his hand up to place on hers. His body felt heavy and buzzy with sleep, but even though his hand probably came down heavier than he intended, he doubted she cared.

“This isn’t Shitty.”

“I know,” Lardo sighed, “Still it’s a hell of a reminder.”

Shaking Jack’s hand off gently, she quickly shut the car off and unbuckled. She jumped out of the car, but before she shut the door, she leaned her head back in to whisper, “Thanks.” Jack gave her a small smile and got one back before she slammed the door in the face to shout out rather obnoxiously at Ransom and Holster, “Are you just gonna stand there or are we gonna get this shit inside?”

The sound of the car door so close must have stirred Bitty, because not long after it shut, there came a muffled grumble from the back seat. Jack turned his head and was caught off guard by the sight that greeted him. Bitty was squinting up at him without even lifting his face from the pillow, leaving half his face obscured by the material of the pillow case.

“Are we there yet?” Bitty groused.

“We’re here.” Jack had a hard time hiding his smile at the way Bitty perked at that.

“Good! I _hate_ car rides. I always fall asleep and then it messes up my sleep schedule and then I get cranky, and lord knows, no one wants that! And I’m rambling aren’t I?”

Jack chuckled at the pink that rose to Bitty’s cheeks. “I don’t mind. If I wasn’t used to your rambling by now, I wouldn’t have let you in the car.”

“Oh, hush. That’s enough of that. You can chirp me later, Jack. Let’s go help unpack before Lardo forces us to.”

Scrambling out of the cramped back seat was a feat, and one Bitty was not so successful at. Luckily, Jack was there to catch him before he could hit gravel.

***

“Is he still out there?” Ransom called as he passed Bitty’s room.

Bitty paused in unpacking to peek out the window. On the expansive back yard, Shitty and Holster were still standing over a pile of fabric and tent poles with expressive and jerky hand motions.

“They’re still out there, and I think they may actually be making some progress,” Bitty yelled back. “They’ve at least made the poles!”

Bitty could hear Ransom’s snort from down the hall, as he watched the scene unfold on the lawn. Shitty was cracking open a beer as Holster threw down the pole in his hand and gesticulated wildly.

A faint and gentle knocking startled Bitty out of his thoughts. Turning, he found Jack sweating and leaning against the door frame.

“So I hear our resident naturalists are still alive.”

“Just barely.” Bitty went back to moving his clothes into the dresser.

“You’re rooming with Lardo, then?” Jack nodded towards the master bed.

“Yeah. We figured since we’re the smallest, sharing a bed would be easiest for us. But if those idiots stay outside, she might fight you and Ransom for a room of her own.”

“S-she could have my room if she wants,” Jack stuttered.

Bitty paused in folding a sweatshirt to smile bemusedly at Jack, “And where would you sleep? With Ransom?”

Jack blushed and looked away. Bitty followed his line of sight and landed on the bed. He could feel his face heating up.

“Um . . .” Bitty found himself blushing harder as Jack turned his attention towards him at the sound of his voice.

“Jack!” Lardo’s voice floated up the stairs.

“Coming!” He called back, “Sorry. I’ve got to . . .” Jack trailed off.

“Go. Go.” Bitty shooed him off and steadfastly ignoring how flushed both of their cheeks had become.

When he heard Jack’s heavy steps stumbling down the stairs, he dropped the sweatshirt and covered his face with his hands and muffled his squealing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is later and a bit shorter than I'd planned. Sorry about that!
> 
> I've had an unfortunately busy week, and another one is coming up. So the next update? Maybe the week after next???
> 
> Also it was going to be longer because of a Jack + Lardo bro scene that keeps getting all tangled and knotted up, so I'm just popping that onto the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos; y'all are the absolute sweetest!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know if there are any glaring errors in plot or grammar!


End file.
